


boys will be

by songs



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Conversations about Death, M/M, These kids are terrifying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songs/pseuds/songs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re good at this,” Gon compliments, after a while. He moves to take a seat by Killua, at the lip of the river. “Catching fish, I mean.”</p><p>There’s a pause.</p><p>“Killing fish,” Killua corrects, quietly. For the first time all morning, Killua puts down his fishing rod, faces Gon completely. “You meant to say ‘killing’.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	boys will be

**Author's Note:**

> set around episode 37, during the first trip to whale island.

☽

It happens like this: Gon offers to teach Killua how to fish. Killua accepts. Killua, being a natural at practically  _everything,_ succeeds instantaneously, and decides to spend the morning overturning every one of Gon’s personal records.

 

Which doesn’t exactly bother Gon. Killua can do what he likes. But…well…

 

It’s  _boring_. It’s boring when Killua isn’t paying any attention to him.

 

“Let’s spar,” he suggests—for the third time in the past hour. He prods Killua in the side; the other boy smacks his hand away, before turning back to the water. “C’mon!”

 

Killua, bluntly: “Don’t wanna.”

 

“But—”

 

“Not interested,” Killua tells him, before adding, half-heartedly, “Sorry.”

 

“Are you gonna finish soon?” Gon crosses his arms. “You’ve already caught  _ten_ fish today.”

 

“Well, one time you caught twenty.” Killua gives a wicked smile. "Plus, I wanna catch another one with just my hands.”

 

For a bare instant, Killua’s nails seem to sharpen, before blunting again. Gon thinks back to the image of Killua from earlier that day: claw-hands, wrist-deep in water, emerging with a moonwhite fish speared in his grasp.

 

“You’re good at this,” Gon compliments, after a while. He moves to take a seat by Killua, at the lip of the river. “Catching fish, I mean.”

 

There’s a pause.

 

“Killing fish,” Killua corrects, quietly. For the first time all morning, Killua puts down his fishing rod, faces Gon completely. “You meant to say ‘killing’.”

 

Gon flushes.  _That wasn’t it,_ he wants to say. But it would be something like a lie, so he reels it in. He hadn’t expected Killua to read him so easily.

 

Then again, he should’ve known better than to underestimate him.

 

“Either way,” Gon says. “You’re still good. And you've never done it before, until now.”

 

“I’ve had  _practice_ ,” Killua says, point-blank. “Killing fish, killing people. It’s not so different.”

 

Gon doesn’t flinch, but the words still come as surprising. Mito-san’s always been teaching him about valuing life. But he knows how Killua’s been raised, knows it well. The Zoldycks aren’t Mito-san. Life, for them, is something else--a matter of ‘give’ and ‘take’.

 

And Gon isn’t one to judge between ‘bad’ and ‘good’, so he only manages, “But a fish and a person aren’t the same.”

 

With a yawn, Killua says, “In the end it’s all just blood and bone.”

 

Another pause. This time, there’s a shift in the way Killua is looking at him, like he knows he said something he probably shouldn’t have. Gon thinks that’s a bit silly, for a friend to be afraid of what he’ll think. So he goes on like normal, whatever that may be.

 

“Killua,” he starts, because he’s honestly curious, “How many people did you kill, before?”

 

The guarded look doesn’t drop. Cautiously, Killua answers, “Lots.”

 

“Do you regret it?” Gon presses.

 

A sigh. Gon is at least glad that Killua is honest when he replies, “Not…particularly.”

 

“Ah,” Gon says. A weird, almost comfortable silence drapes over them after that. He thinks the conversation is over, but then Killua breaks the quiet.

 

“I’d still do it, you know.” Killua has his knees wrapped to his chest. “Kill people. If I had to.”

 

For whatever reason—curiosity, caring, wonder—Gon decides, then, to step over the invisible, boundary-line they seem to have set for themselves.

 

“Would you kill me?”

 

This doesn’t set Killua off-guard, like Gon thought it would. Rather, he takes his time, before answering, in a small, small voice: “I wouldn’t want to.”

 

“Me, neither,” Gon agrees, brightly. “I wouldn’t want Killua to kill me.”

 

“Really, now,” Killua says, his tone soft. His expression has lost that edge of distrust. “You’re so strange, Gon.”

 

“But,” Gon says, and Killua waits. “If Killua tried to kill me, I’d try to kill him, too.”

 

 _This_ time, Killua is taken aback. “…Oh?”

 

“It would be less scary that way,” Gon says. “If I fight back, it’d be more like a spar…” And with that, the realization seems to hit. “Is that why you don’t want to spar? You think you might kill me?”

 

Silence.

 

Gon wonders if he might’ve pushed too far when Killua just sits there, gaping at him. He thinks he should maybe say something else, or repeat his question, but then Killua is  _laughing,_ and it’s the airiest, happiest sound Gon has ever heard. It almost doesn’t fit Killua—hard, angled, Killua with his galena-sharp eyes. And yet, at the same time, it does,  _it does_ , and Gon beams as his friend curls with laughter.

 

“Gon…” Killua manages, between giggles. “You’re so…so weird. Do you even think before you say things?”

 

Gon says, “A bit.”

 

“A bit…” Killua echoes. And then, in a very gentle, fluid motion, he brings his palm to Gon’s head and ruffles his hair. In a second, it’s over, but Gon can still feel the ghosts of the touch.

 

“Don’t ever change,” Killua tells him, and Gon blinks.

 

“Okay,” he says, puzzled. “But I still want to get stronger…”

 

“I…” Killua is clenching his fists, Gon realizes. A very faint, trace of red trickles down his wrist.  _Blood_. “I’ll spar with you, then.”

 

Gon brightens immediately. “Really?”

 

“Really,” Killua says. He uncurls his hands. “Are you afraid?”

 

Gon shakes his head, adamant. “Killua doesn’t scare me at all.”

 

More laughter.

 

“You know…” Killua moves to stand, takes a step back. “Sometimes, I think you're the one who scares me."

 

Gon tilts his head, peering up at his friend. “Why’s that?”

 

Killua doesn’t answer him. Instead, he holds out his hand—the one that’s clean of blood. Gon takes it, lets Killua guide him to his feet. The touch lingers, this time.

 

And for a long moment, both boys are standing, but neither one of them lets go. 


End file.
